


Bad Language

by greglet



Category: Almost Human
Genre: John and Dorian nonsense, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greglet/pseuds/greglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is convinced he knows more Spanish than he does, and when faced with a chance to test his skills, he can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Language

**Author's Note:**

> Just something small and sweet that pulls at the John and Dorian nonsense I miss so much

For being a general nuisance, a rebel to the rules and an all round unruly employee, John and Dorian had been given the joy of door duty around a small neighbourhood. There had been a hit and run in the area and unfortunately no one had come forward and the girl who had been hit was still in a medically-induced coma in the hospital, giving the police a dying trail and no leads. Which left Captain Moldanado to direct John and Dorian to the doorbells of Forest Avenue in the hope that some nosey resident had seen something happen. 

Even Dorian knew door duty was practically useless (relevant information found from door duty was less than 8%), especially since no one had come forward with any information so far, but John was convinced it was payback for damaging another MX - but at least it wasn’t fatal this time… Rudy just had to find another arm for it. Still, Moldanado was pissed and he had his hunch about punishment. 

The first six doors were beyond useless. Two of which didn’t even answer them despite two cars being in the driveway, the lights on (despite it being late afternoon) and voices being heard from inside. Dorian, showing no signs of the frustration John was, only chided John, telling him to remember the girl whose justice was at stake. 

“And? Do you honestly think door duty is going to produce anything useful? Stahl’s the only one gonna get anywhere, checking drone footage. The rest of us are wasting our damn time.” 

The houses were all within an affluent area - affluent enough for each house to have a separate driveway and surrounding wooded lot - which meant a lot of walking in and out every set of grounds. John was getting tired in the heat of late summer, eyeing Dorian’s cool serenity as they wandered through to the next lot. 

They were stopped abruptly by a tall gate and several rolling signs in spanish. 

‘Attention! Perro!’, ‘Mis mordeduras de perro!’ and just screeds of ‘Perro guardia!’

“Do you think there’s a dog in here?” John asked Dorian, his sarcasm hidden in his inquisitive tone - not that it fooled Dorian who gave him a look to stop fooling around as they held their badges to a security camera asking them to state their business. The gate buzzed open without much more than a “It’s the police, open up”, but as they stepped onto the immaculately kept lawn and driveway, John was cautious of a any thundering guard dogs coming his way. 

Still conscious of the fact that the signs on the gate were in Spanish, John felt that, thanks to his high school Spanish classes, he could most likely successfully navigate the questions. Reaching the door of the household, he let Dorian knock, but then put his arm out in front of him to silently tell his partner that he was taking the lead on this one.

“John - the house owner will probably be Spanish-”

“Hey, I speak Spanish, okay? You don’t know everythin’ about me. I got this.” As the door opened a middle aged Hispanic lady looked to the badges they showed again and it was apparent very quickly that she wasn’t going to speak in English for them. 

“Hola. ¿Cómo puedo ayudarle?” John recognised it as the formal tense and needed no help is sensing that her tone wanted nothing to do with them or their questions and that told him there was a quickly diminishing chance for any information out this lady. 

“¿Inglés?” John asked, hopeful that he could spare everyone his probably broken Spanish - after all, it had been about fifteen years since he had even attempted the language. 

“No.” Well, the simple answer to the simple question sealed his fate as he went sifting through the basic conversational Spanish he once retained. 

“Bueno.” Even in Spanish he could produce sarcasm. “Me llamo es detectivo John Kennex y mi ...la pareja es Dorian.” John, flashing Dorian a smirk while being proud of his achievements so far was suddenly thrown off by the partially incredulous but also amused look on Dorian’s face, and instantly, he knew it must have been his accent. Not exact enough? Too exact? He frowned at Dorian before trying to continue. 

“Esta-moos... looking - eyes - ojo,” Pointing to his own eyes, he could feel himself losing grip and frantically clawing through his own memory of his spanish classes - of the classes he ended up failing. “Por información de incidente la semana ...previoso.” 

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence where Dorian said nothing, the lady looked at him blankly and he could feel a pull to go find that guard dog and provoke it. 

“¿La mujer?” Surprised barely covered it and in his jubilation he forgot he was meant to be in Spanish.

“Yes! Ye- Sí, sí, la mujer! ¿Que tu… algo?” Dorian’s head dipped in disappointment at his last line, but there was still a smirk at his lips. “Lo siento, yo...quiero decir… sssober algo?”

“That’s not a Spanish word, John.” Dorian, piping up only to be unhelpful was exactly that - unhelpful - and earned him a pointed look of ‘we’re gonna talk about this in the car’.

“Enough, Dorian, I’m doing perfectly okay, alright - she’s answered my questions so far, so lay off.” 

“John, I’m just trying help.”

“Telling me I’m doing it wrong is not helping, Dorian-”

“Disculpe, disculpe, no se nada acerca de la chica, sólo que ella está herido. Adiós, oficials, buena suerte en conjunto.” Shutting the door on their disagreement, John barely got out a word in English, never mind Spanish, to stop her. His frown cut deep and his frustration turned to Dorian now they were down another neighbour with no more information than when they started. 

“You couldn’t have just kept quiet for five minutes?” 

“Not with Spanish like that, John, you were borderline offensive.” 

“At least I tried. S’not as easy as just downloading it y’know.” Thumping the small notepad and pen he had been carrying around into Dorian’s arms, he stormed off back down towards the gate. 

“You called me your partner, John.”

“Not this again. I called you that ‘cause you are my damn partner, whether I want you or not.” He kept forward, throwing the gate open wide enough for Dorian to get through after him. 

“No, you said, ‘la pareja’ which is ‘romantic partner’.”

John hesitated for a step before muttering ‘bullshit’ and walking back to the end of the vast driveway and turned left, back the way they came. giving up on door duty and praying that Dorian didn’t tape his tragic attempts at bi-linguality.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me John, I recorded it, so we can check it later.” With a sinking feeling and the insight to the next four months of jokes about his terrible Spanish, he didn’t even try to convince Dorian to delete the recording - that would only admit defeat.

#


End file.
